


I. Sin | II. Salvation

by velithya



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velithya/pseuds/velithya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Are they my sin to bear, for choosing salvation?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I. Sin | II. Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> For [Soranokumo](http://soranokumo.dreamwidth.org/) ♥ Written to the November 2011 monthly theme: Hope and Despair.
> 
> Originally posted to [Fang-Lightning](http://fang-lightning.dreamwidth.org) dreamwidth and livejournal communities on 18th November 2011.

**I. Sin**

She does her best not to think about it. She concentrates on the here and now - the wilds of Gran Pulse, the creatures and Cie'th in front of them, her comrades - and mostly she succeeds. But late at night, after they've pitched camp and everything's quiet - when it's just her, gazing up at the sky, stars tiny points of light overshadowed by the glowing menace of Cocoon - it creeps into the background.

They're small things at first - seeing the desolation of her homeland, the meaning of _five hundred years_ hammering home so starkly; Oerba, once a place of flowers and light, now covered in crystal dust and ash and Cie'th. She feels overwhelmed, all the time, grief and guilt and _failure_ all wrought together, until she can barely tell where one emotion begins and the other ends. She should have been there, she should have protected them; she should have torn Cocoon from the sky when she had the chance. It's all too much, and she can't process - can only do her best to hold herself together across the cracks, paste a mocking smile on her face and manage the only way she knows how.

It's even worse on Cocoon; everything that's happening is the culmination of hundreds of years of planning by the fal'Cie, and they're playing right into its hands. The air is thick with dust and the screams of innocents, and all they can do is move on the path that has been set.

She doesn't know how the others stand it. Sazh and Snow are out to save Dajh and Serah, and maybe that's enough; Vanille has her new promises, and her faith that this time, she'll be able to keep them; and Hope - well, she doesn't understand him at all. She can't even say his _name_. And then there's Lightning.

Lightning's angry, all the time, but sometimes she's so incandescent with it that Fang's breath catches in her throat and she can't look away. In truth, Lighting and her anger are probably the only thing keeping Fang balanced, right on that knife-edge - the relentless assault towards their agreed goal that tramples over everything in its path, and the breathless anticipation of seeing that glimpse of who Lightning truly is, Blazefire Saber in one hand and a Firaga in the other, and a terrifying focus in her eyes.

Lightning's pulled her back from the edge again and again. And standing in Orphan's sanctuary, Vanille crying out in pain, Fang cracks. She's wavering over the edge, agreeing with Orphan, anything to stop the fal'Cie hurting Vanille - and she's looking right at Lightning, the hurt in her eyes hitting her as solidly as any blow, when her form wavers and just like that - 

Everything Lightning is, everything she was, her anger, her focus, all of it, in an instant, meaningless. Cie'th.

There's nothing left to hold her, and just like that, Fang falls.

 

**II. Salvation**

"Fang. Hey, Fang."

She opens her eyes. She's surrounded by a blue glow, and for a moment she can't remember who she is, where she is - and then everything comes rushing back like a king behemoth. Orphan and the fight. Cocoon falling, and the crystal spire.

Ragnarok.

"Fang," Vanille says again, and Fang pushes herself up.

"Yes," she says, "what is it?"

"Fang," Vanille says, and Fang glances over - she's almost vibrating, bouncing on her toes and a smile fit to burst on her face. "Fang, we can go _home_."

"I don't-" Fang says, because she doesn't; home is five hundred years away and long gone now, a village choked with dust and Cie'th.

"Come on," Vanille says, and she skips forward and grabs Fang by the hand, trying to pull her to her feet. "We have a promise to keep."

There are men outside, soldiers in the uniforms of the Cavalry, but Fang can't really make herself care; she feels numb, stripped down to nothing by the chill of despair and the blazing power of Ragnarok, nothing remaining but a shell. They salute her as she passes, Vanille still towing her by a hand, and then her boots are clanking on metal and they're on a ship.

Vanille chatters on about something or other while they're in the air but she can't pay much attention; it's like she left her emotions back in the crystal, everything passing in a blur. 

There's a jolt as they set down, nothing like Sazh's smooth handling, and when the door slides open the fresh air rushes in and suddenly she's sixteen again, her arm burning from her first warrior brand and the clean air of Oerba in her lungs, the faintest hint of salt.

She slides forward out of her seat, gets to the door, and stops dead.

There are flowers, here - blanketing the ground as far as she can see, a riot of fiery reds and blazing yellows and deep purples, points of pink and blue and orange in between all covering a thick layer of green. It's amazing, and both nothing like it should be and exactly how it was all at once.

She knows they're in Oerba, even though she can't actually see the village; knows the shape of the hills and the lay of the sky, but more importantly can feel it in her body, something tight in her chest starting to ease.

She takes a step down the ramp, then another, and then her toes are brushing petals and stems and she's knee deep in flowers, their scents mingling around her.

It's both too much and not enough all at once, and then someone calls her name in the distance and it's like time just falls away. She's balanced again, on the edge, only this time it's not the edge of her endurance, nothing but the long drop into despair ahead of her. No, this time she's balanced on the edge of hope, her heart thumping against her chest.

She turns, and-

It's Lightning, alive and real and _right there_ , and Fang doesn't have a name for the emotion that's welling up in her right now, doesn't care. Cocoon could be falling again and she wouldn't bat an eyelid.

She takes a step, and another, and Lightning's just as breathtaking as she remembers, with the afternoon sun shining a halo in her hair.

And then Lighting smiles, at Fang, _for_ Fang, and she's caught defenceless, still raw from Ragnarok and crystal and everyone she loved turning Cie'th. She's smiling too before she even realises it, and then Lightning is there in her arms and she's breathing in the clean scent of her hair. She's soft and warm and hard and her hand is in Fang's hair.

"It's okay," Lightning says. "It's okay, Fang, I've got you," and just like that, Fang falls.


End file.
